Thank You (Royai One-Shot)
by ChidoriQueen
Summary: Riza Hawkeye is dismissive as usual of yet another of her father's apprentices, Roy Mustang, but she didn't count on him having a bit more...fire than the others.


Riza Hawkeye sat on her mattress, picking up a small paperback novel that lay on her nightstand, yawning. As she opened the volume, she squinted to read the faint, black print.

Lifting her head, she gazed out of the thinly-curtained, dusty window to find a boy about her age with midnight-black hair, dark, piercing eyes wave at her, a suitcase under his arm. She quickly looked away, a blush forming on her face.

It was probably another one of her father's apprentices. She dismissed this, however; none of them lasted very long under his intense training. There was no point in paying him any mind. He'd be gone just like the others in no time.

She sighed as she heard a sharp rap on the door, and stepped reluctantly out of her comfortable bed, trudging downstairs. Riza yanked open the door, before staring blankly at him.

He was slightly taller than she was, and lightly muscled. The boy smiled once again, and held out his hand, "I'm Roy Mustang. You must be Mr. Hawkeye's daughter, Riza."

"Hn," she completely disregarded his polite greeting and turned around, silently beckoning for him to follow.

"Um...nice to meet you too?" he seemed hesitant as he followed her inside, and took a seat at one of the worn, battered couches that had existed for generations in the Hawkeye Estate.

Riza studied his face thoughtfully, sitting in an overstuffed chair across from him, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. At first glance, he definitely didn't look as strong as the last apprentice her father her had, nor as tough. This boy definitely was a softie- something that just wasn't tolerated by her father.

He grinned awkwardly, hand resting on his neck sheepishly, "Well…where's your father?"

"Busy," she refused to waste her breath on him, and she fixed her hard, copper-hued eyes on him, her intense, penetrating gaze making him uncomfortable.

"Could you tell me a bit about him?" he prodded, feeling slightly intimidated by this quiet, deathly serious girl.

"What is there to know?" she snapped; her father wasn't something she usually liked to discuss.

"Shouldn't you know something about him? You are is daughter, after all," he chanced a nervous laugh, noticing that her eyes had narrowed slightly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, I would think that you might know-"

She lost it then, standing up and clenching her dainty fists, glaring murderously at the insolent jerk, "Stop acting like you understand. You don't know a thing about me. My life is hard enough without you in it. You'll be gone before you know it, someone like you doesn't stand a chance!"

His brow furrowed, and his eyes hardened, "You don't know a thing about me, either. My parents are gone, and I have nothing left, okay?! There's a reason I'm here, and I'm not going to give up, no matter how hard it gets!"

She froze, shocked, at the adamant boy, and she realized that he wasn't like the others. The fire in his eyes...he must have been ready for hell. Ready to stand and bear it for...whatever his goal was.

She had given up on ever amounting to something in her insignificant life. All that she had done so far was take care of herself and her father, and she supposed that she would do just that until he died or she was married off to some rich fellow. Everything had been mapped out for her- and she thought that it was better to just accept it.

But...this boy had nothing either, and he was willing to push to get what he wanted. So that meant the same for her, right? She could choose her path?

Was it possible for someone as restricted as her to be free?

Yes, yes it was.

Slowly, she nodded, and turned around, trying to conceal the smile on her face. Riza bowed respectfully in his direction, before muttering, "Thank you, mister."

The girl turned around, and walked up the stairs to her bedroom, before adding softly to herself, "And I really did mean it."

Cries of pain continuously filled the house, until at last she heard the thunderous footsteps and loud grumbles that meant that her father was once again back in his study.

She wondered what had happened, and couldn't clench a pang of worry at the thought of him being hurt.

Creaking open her bedroom door, she peered around, made sure her father's door was firmly closed, and scurried downstairs. She just had to see what was wrong.

He was lying in a bruised heap on the living room floor, curled up in a defenseless ball and clutching his shoulder. She could see that his left eye was badly bruised a rich purple, and God knew how many other injuries he had.

Unable to stand it much longer, she rushed to his side, lifting him to an upright position, "Mr. Mustang? Are you alright? Say something."

When he couldn't respond, she struggled to lift him up, and agonizingly slowly helped him to the nearby guest room. She deposited him as gently as she could onto the dusty bed that had been vacant for quite a few months.

"Thanks," he murmured, onyx eyes staring straight up at the ceiling.

"Don't talk." She ordered, rushing out of the room, frantically searching for something to relieve him of a bit of pain- a cloth, and some ice.

Riza laid the makeshift ice-pack onto his eye, and was met with a small sigh of relief. She decided to stay by his bedside to comfort him.

She sat in a long-since abandoned rocking chair, swaying back and forth, pushing the dark hair out of his closed eyes. Closing her eyes sleepily, and unable to fight the desire to sleep any longer, she allowed the waves of exhaustion to consume her.

When she woke up, Roy Mustang was there, laying on his side, watching her. She blushed, before she was angry with herself. Why did she care? What was so..attractive about him?

"Good morning, Riza," he smiled at her, and sat up, rubbing the weal on his cheek, the pain having subsided substantially.

"Morning…Roy," she replied awkwardly, shaking her head slightly to wake herself up, and abruptly pushing herself out of the chair, looking embarrassedly down at the floor. She couldn't believe that she had fallen asleep beside him. "I'll make you some breakfast."

She hurriedly rushed out of the door, hoping he wouldn't see her light blush, until she was stopped by his voice, "Riza?"

She turned around, "Yes?"

He followed her, resting a hand on her shoulder, and she could practically hear the smile in his voice, "Thanks. Thanks for everything."

"No problem," she whirled around right away, attempting to cool that embarrassed blush, briskly walking to the kitchen, wondering what he liked to eat.

She had feeling that she'd have to know for all of the mornings that he'd spend in her company.

Riza had no doubt about that.


End file.
